


Forest

by yeaka



Series: Want [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:52:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10620159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Link sells Giro a screw.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I juuust started playing BotW and I guess I’ll just jump on every NPC I pass until I hit sharks.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The second time the stranger comes to him is just as pleasant as the first, only an hour or two later, a little darker but otherwise no different. With the fade of the sky, the man’s golden hair no longer glimmers bright but glows orange-purple in the sunset. His tan and browns clothes are simple, his equipment numerous but basic; it’s his face that gives him the appeal. Usually, Giro looks at materials—what fabric does a person wear, what weapons do they carry, what’s it all worth, and which parts of it are rare? The man certainly has a _foreign_ sense about him, even if their shapes and colours aren’t all that different. There’s some strange, intangible thing about him that makes Giro think this man has _seen things_ , _done things_ that Giro could only imagine. As the man wanders up to him, Giro asks, “Have you got anything unusual to sell me now?”

The man smiles softly, his handsome face alight with it—Giro’s heart skips a beat, pulse rushing quicker, and he coughs and pretends to focus. “I, uh, have some wares to sell if you’re interested in buying. Perhaps a few mushrooms couldn’t hurt? I saw you take a spill off the tree over there, and that’s got to have burned up some energy. Not that I was watching you.” Suddenly embarrassed all over again, he gestures expansively about and jokes, “Just not much to look at ‘round here.” Indeed, he picked a boring spot for his camp—hardly high enough up to see a thing. But it seemed safe from the monsters, and that’s what matters.

The man shakes his head at the offer. It’s just as well—he looks fine enough, which gives Giro some relief. He would’ve run right over when he witnessed the debacle, if the stranger hadn’t righted himself immediately and walked off with a thoroughly unscathed air about him. This one’s a fighter, Giro can tell, even if a large stick is all that’s currently strung across his back. The man dips a hand into his trousers and fishes for a moment, then withdraws it and offers out an old screw, rusted with time but still clearly of quality. Giro plucks it out of the stranger’s hands and turns the object over in his fingers. It’s a bad time of day to eye merchandise, but he knows a guardian component when he sees it. He suggests, “Thirty rupees?” 

The stranger nods happily, and Giro turns to search his pack for the appropriate sum. He can probably turn it for a higher profit—these sorts of eternally sturdy parts are hard to come by. The second he’s handed the rupees over, the man’s turning to leave. 

Giro squeaks, “Wait,” on instinct. The man looks curiously back at him, and Giro gestures lamely towards his ‘shelter’, pathetic but portable. “You’re welcome to stay a little longer, if you like. Things can get rough out there at night...” And the man is absurdly attractive, not to mention strong-looking and calmly reassuring, and Giro can’t help wanting him around as much as possible. 

But the man must have better things to do. He shakes his head but waves, already running off again, now silhouetted by the stars.


End file.
